


Once Collared

by LadyRedCrest (your_icequeen)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_icequeen/pseuds/LadyRedCrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Once Collared<br/>Authors: xixie and ladyredcrest<br/>Rating: NC-17<br/>Pairings: Sherlock/John<br/>Warnings: BDSM<br/>Disclaimer: Sherlock and John belong to Sir ACD, Gatfatt and the BBC.<br/>Beta: ghislainem70 helped with a read through of one scene, other than that, the only betas were the authors. All mistakes belong to us.<br/>A/N: This fic is a direct continuation of The Pleasure-dome Hotel written by velvet_mace and raiining and was written with their permission. We thank them greatly for allowing us to do this and of course for writing TPDH to start with. Reading the original is a must to understand what is going on in our fic. Please enjoy.<br/>Transferred from LJ. And hopefully we will finish it one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They left together.   
   
Sherlock had one hand wrapped firmly around John’s bicep.  He wasn’t really dragging him along next to him, but he did seem content to have him close and unable to move away.  John sighed as Sherlock angled him physically down the well lit corridor.  Expecting to head toward the front doors, John was surprised when Sherlock veered off towards the elevators.   
   
“Where are we going?”  John couldn’t stop himself from asking.  John immediately cursed himself silently.  This was just the sort of thing that annoyed his last Domme.  John knew he was a crap sub.  He never did what he was told, well, outside the bedroom anyway.  He had to question everything.   
   
John had spent the last four months dreaming of Sherlock, wanting Sherlock, berating himself for not leaving with Sherlock when he had the chance.  Now, here he was, screwing things up after only 10 minutes.  
   
But Sherlock didn’t seem angry.  He merely glanced to the side and answered, “I left my riding crop in the mortuary.  We’ll go get it and then be off.”  
   
John smiled.  “Well, we’ll definitely be needing that.”   
   
Sherlock stopped in front of the elevator bank and jabbed the down button.  He dropped John’s arm and turned toward him, chuckling.  “Well, it’s my work crop.  For the cadavers.  I’d certainly never use it on you.”   
   
He moved into John’s space and took his chin in his hand.  Leaning down, he rubbed his nose against John’s.  “But, for all that, I’d hate to lose it.”  
   
John swayed towards Sherlock, shivering.   
   
Though he had closed his eyes, he heard Sherlock draw in a breath.  “You are so very beautiful, John.  And I’m going to own you.”  
   
John felt a lurch in his stomach.  He was rapidly becoming hard, and he leaned more heavily on the cane in his hand.   He couldn’t wait to get back home.   
   
He knew it to be home, even though he had never been there.  Sherlock was home now, and he wasn’t going to screw it up this time.  He’d be much better than he had ever been with Mary, or any of the tops before her.  He’d make this work.   
   
Just before Sherlock initiated a kiss, the elevator doors opened.  John was steered inside.  
   
Sherlock stared at him as the elevator descended.  “You haven’t been seeing your therapist.”  
   
John started.  “How do you know I have a therapist?”  
   
“You didn’t have that limp when we last saw one another.  Clearly, it’s psychosomatic.  Ex-Army sub, psychosomatic limp?  Of course you have a therapist.”  
   
John didn’t say anything for a moment.  Then he got defensive.  “I hated it.  Are you going to order me to go back to her?”  
   
“Would you go, if I ordered it?” he seemed genuinely interested in the answer.   
   
“At least at first.”  John squared his shoulders and waited for the fallout.  Christ, didn’t he just promise himself that he wouldn’t sabotage this relationship with his willfulness?  You don’t just tell a top that you’d disobey them.  Especially not a top like Sherlock.  He practically oozed dominance.   
   
Sherlock actually giggled before pushing John back into the wall.  Pressing himself fully against John, who could feel Sherlock’s arousal against his thigh.  “Nice to know you’d at least try to obey.  But it won’t be necessary.  Therapists are idiots.”  
   
John leaned his head on Sherlock’s shoulder.  “You find it funny that I might disobey you?”  
   
Sherlock shrugged.  “I’m not supposed to, am I?  I can’t help it.  I’d never want to be with someone who’d sit through therapy anyway.  Dull.  You won’t be dull, will you, John?  I love a challenge.”  
   
“Well, you can call my last top, if you want.  She says I’m completely intractable.”  
   
Sherlock wrapped his hand around John’s throat and squeezed.  John’s eyelids fluttered and he leaned forward into Sherlock’s hand.   
   
Sherlock spoke directly into his ear.  “Not intractable, John.  Just interesting.”   
   
He pulled back, allowing John to gasp for air.  “You are severely underweight, however, and that must be fixed.  You will eat.”  
   
John looked Sherlock up and down, taking in his thin frame and the circles under his eyes.  “So will you.”  
   
Giving orders to your Dom shouldn’t cause him to inhale sharply and look like he wants to fuck you against a wall. John could tell that life with Sherlock was going to be unexpected.  The elevator doors dinged open.  Sherlock gave him a considering look and then dragged him bodily into the mortuary.    
   
He kissed John bruisingly.  “I’ve waited too long for this,” Sherlock growled, as he unbuckled his belt and pulled open his trousers. “Kneel. And there will be no coming  until I tell you.”  

John obediently dropped to his knees, his cane clattering to the floor. 

When Sherlock pulled out his already hard cock, John started to lean  forward but was stopped by long fingers run through his hair, fisting themselves  and holding his head in place.  

“No, John, this is mine to take tonight.” Sherlock said as he thrust  into John’s open mouth.

John managed to relax his throat just in time  to keep from gagging.   Sherlock set an almost relentless pace. John gazed up at him and  sucked, attempting to swallow the saliva that was starting to roll  down his chin.   

It had been four months filled with dreams of John and now his cock  was sliding in and out of those slightly swollen lips. The thought  pushed Sherlock over the edge and he pushed himself far down John’s  throat as he came.  

He gave himself a few seconds to recover, then grabbed John by  his coat and pulled him to his feet, bringing their lips together. John tasted of both himself and Sherlock which was almost enough to make him hard all over again.   Sherlock became aware that John was tucking him back into his trousers  and buckling his belt when he reached down and palmed the other man’s  erection through his jeans.   John whimpered into their kiss, a sound that Sherlock swallowed hungrily.  

“You’re not allowed to come until you belong to me, John, and only  then when I allow it. Do you understand?”   

John nodded.

  “Good.” Sherlock glances around the mortuary, “It seems that Molly has taken my riding crop. I’ll go get it from her and come back.  It should give you enough time to compose yourself.”  
   
John watched Sherlock slink out into the hallway.  He closed his eyes and focused on controlling his erection.  He had just managed to pull himself back together, when the door behind him opened.  Turning, John came face to face with a mousy sub with a riding crop in her hand.  
   
He smiled disarmingly.  “You must be Molly.”  
   
The lab tech faltered.  “Um, yes.  Do we know each other?”  
   
John shook his head.  “Sherlock mentioned you.”   
   
Molly broke out in a blinding smile.  “Did he?  Oh.  Well, yes.  I’m Molly.”  She took a step forward, holding out her hand.  “And you are?”  
   
John limped forward, stretching to accept her hand.   
   
“Don’t touch him.” Both John and Molly instinctively froze at the commanding tone in Sherlock’s voice.  John watched as a myriad of emotions showed themselves on Molly’s open face.  She shivered and her hips jerked a little to the left.  God knows he wasn’t a consulting detective like his Dom, but any idiot could see that Molly was attracted to Sherlock.  Every subby tell she had was coming out to play.  
   
Molly jerked her hand back.  “Oh, Sherlock.  I didn’t know.  I wouldn’t have if you had told me.  I’m sorry.”  
   
Sherlock gave her a condescending look.  “Well, I suppose it’s not your fault.  I haven’t gotten him a collar yet.  We’ll have to stop off on the way home, John.  I really can’t abide other people touching my things.  And it’s not like you can orgasm until we do, as per our earlier conversation.”  
   
John didn’t parse Sherlock’s full meaning immediately.  At first he only saw Molly’s face.  She was devastated.  So not just attracted to Sherlock—in love with him.  John grimaced.  She had thought, well hoped, that Sherlock hadn’t wanted John to touch her, not the other way around.  Poor girl, then again, she’d never survive Sherlock.  He’d eat her alive.  
   
Which is when Sherlock’s words sunk in.  A collar?  That was not what John had thought he meant.  A collar.  Did he want that?  Looking at Sherlock, John knew that he did.  But why did Sherlock?  
   
Sherlock, completely ignoring Molly, looked John over and rolled his eyes.  “Do stop being tiresome John.  Of course you’ll wear a collar.  You belong to me now.”  
   
John allowed himself to be led out of Bart’s and settled into a cab.  Sherlock gave instructions to take them to Asprey and Garrard. 

++++  
   
“Wrong.  You belong anywhere I choose to take you.”   
   
Sherlock watched as John processed the statement.   
   
“What?”  
   
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  “You were just thinking that you don’t belong in this high-scale establishment.”  Asprey and Garrands was an exclusive shop.  Sherlock knew John had never been into a store so posh before, but it was ridiculous for him to think that he wasn’t good enough for the place.  “You belong wherever I take you.”  
   
Sherlock watched as John visibly relaxed.  He loved how responsive John was.  All he had to do was tell him to calm down, to take the responsibility out of his hands and John calmed immediately.  Sherlock couldn’t wait to see a collar around his sub’s neck, visible proof that he was owned.  That he chose to be owned by Sherlock.   
   
He watched John sigh.  “How do you know what I’m thinking?  Doms have always complained that I’m unreadable outside a bedroom.”  
   
Sherlock glared.  “One: Any Dom that was stupid enough to have you and let you leave is an idiot.  Therefore all conclusions they may have drawn from your behavior are suspect.  Two:  I know you better than anyone, including yourself.  I know you were collared only once before and she rescinded your collar after less than 8 months.  I know you blame yourself when clearly she had unrealistic expectations from day one.  I know that you undervalue yourself and _that_ will stop.”   
   
John looked uncomfortable.  “Sherlock, Mary wasn’t an unreasonable woman.  She just wanted to settle down with a nice sub and have some children.  I couldn’t do that for her.”  
   
“Of course you couldn’t John.  You are far too fascinating to do something so ridiculously mundane.”  
   
John didn’t look too convinced but he didn’t say anything.   
   
It only took one nearly imperceptible nod from Sherlock to attract the attention of the head salesperson, a Dom about 55 or so.  
   
“Ah, good afternoon Sir.  How can I help you?”  
   
“Yes.  We will be needing a collar.”  
   
Aspery and Garrand was one of those exclusive shops that prided itself on subdued opulence and discretion.  After a cursory glance at John, the jeweler nodded and moved back towards the counter.   
   
“If Sir would allow his sub to be measured we can begin the selection process.”  
   
Sherlock appreciated the fact that the man got right down to business.  He was also experienced enough to read the facts of his and John’s relationship.  Sherlock would be picking this collar.  John would not be consulted.  He was no pet looking for a beautiful bauble around his neck.   
   
Sherlock allowed John to be led away by a mousy but well dressed sub.  Clearly, Asprey and Garrard’s would never expect anyone to allow another Dom to touch their sub long enough to measure him.   
   
Sherlock watched until John disappeared into a back room before turning back to the manager.   
   
“I would like to look at leather collars.”  
   
The jeweler nodded.  “Black?”  
   
“Brown.”  
   
The man blinked but showed no other signs of surprise.  Sherlock smiled inwardly.  He did so enjoy throwing someone off.  Of course the man wasn’t completely incorrect in his professional judgment.  Sherlock preferred black, but he knew that John would prefer brown.  All his clothing choices pointed to that.  It was actually a bit of a surprise to Sherlock that he so naturally decided to adhere to John’s tastes rather than his own.  He honestly felt a bit proud of himself.   
   
Sherlock was shown a number of very nice hand made leather collars.  All one of a kind, of course.  It would never do for one of A  & G’s clientele to run into someone wearing the same collar.   
   
Sherlock gave each one a cursory glance before his eyes fell on a golden brown collar with an unassuming D-ring and tag.  “That one.”  
   
The manager lifted the collar carefully.  “Sir has excellent taste.  Alexander McQueen in hand tooled leather, velvet lined, ring and tag in platinum, of course.”  
   
Sherlock nodded to himself.  Of course.  As if he would ever let John out of the flat in something as mundane as silver.   
   
“Will Sir be needing a dress collar?”  
   
Sherlock hadn’t considered it, but, yes, Sir would.  “Yes.  One inch platinum.  Detachable O-ring with an optional pendant.  One half carat marquise cut diamond surrounded by round cut sapphires.”  
   
“I have something similar to that in the back.”  
   
Sherlock cut him off.  “I don’t want similar.  Order it.  Place everything on my family’s account.”  
“Yes, sir.  And what account is that sir?”  
   
“Lady Wintergrace Holmes.”  
   
The jeweler’s eyes widened in recognition.  Sherlock did so resemble his mother.  
   
“Ah, yes.  How is your mother?  Her William is one of our best customers.”  
   
“Yes.  Daddy always did enjoy his jewels.  She is well.”  
   
After finalizing his purchases, Sherlock was handed the box with John’s collar and asked if he would like the use of the private viewing room in order to place it upon John’s neck.  Sherlock contemplated taking him back to Baker Street first, but ultimately couldn’t stand the thought of another person, stranger or not, looking at John’s bare neck.  Every fiber of Sherlock’s being rebelled against the idea of John setting a foot in public uncollared ever again.    
   
“Yes.  Thank you.”  
   
Sherlock escorted John into the viewing room and turned him to face  the full length mirror. He then took the newly purchased collar from the box and handed it over.  He watched as John ran his fingers over the supple leather, as his beautiful hands hooked a finger through the D-ring and smoothed over the tag.   
   
“You got me a brown collar.” He said, looking into Sherlock’s eyes.  “I would never have been comfortable with black.”  
   
It was almost an apology, but Sherlock preened.  “I know you, John.”   
   
“You do.”  Sherlock’s cock twitched.   John held the collar to his throat waiting for Sherlock to lock it.  Sherlock watched John’s face in the mirror as he fastened the clasp. 

The shorter man reached up and ran his fingers lightly over the platinum  tag that was slotted through the D-ring.

 “SH. What does the H stand for?” John asked his eyes still on the  collar around his neck before he glanced up at Sherlock.

  “Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.” He whispered into John’s ear before biting  down just about the leather strap. His eyes never left John’s. 

“I can’t believe you collared me before I even knew your last name.  That’s not normal.”

 Sherlock wrapped his left arm around John’s chest and pulled his back  closer to him. He held him there tightly while he used his right hand  to unbutton John’s jeans and caress his quickly hardening length.  “Normal is boring.”  
   
Throwing his head back against Sherlock’s shoulder, John gasped at the  tight pulls on his cock. He fought the urge to come, remembering the  order that was given to him earlier.  

His whimpers must have begun to sound desperate because Sherlock  finally spoke. “I own you now, John.  You belong to me.  I want you to come for me, John.”

  And he did. His pants caught most of the come when he ejaculated, all  except what ended up in Sherlock’s palm. He raised his hand to John’s mouth.   John didn’t need to be told what to do. His tongue darted out and  licked the hand clean.  

Sherlock kissed the same spot that he had bit down on earlier.  

“Mine.” He whispered, possessively.  

Sherlock held him there for a few more moments to make sure that  John’s legs had returned to him.   When John was able to move again he closed his trousers before turning to face his Dom.  
   
“Yours.”

 “It’s time to take you home.” Sherlock said, sweeping out of the viewing room, John’s hand clasped in his.  
   
++++  
   
John stared up at the 221b on the door as Sherlock knocked perfunctorily.  Glancing up and down the street, he nodded to himself.  This was a very nice area.  He didn’t really know how they were going to afford it.  
   
“I know the landlady.  Helped her out when her Dom was given the death penalty in Florida.”  
   
“You stopped her Dom from being executed.”  
   
“No.  I insured it.”  
   
John didn’t have time to answer.  A very small older woman opened the door.  
   
“Sherlock!”  
   
John watched as Sherlock smiled genuinely.  “Mrs. Hudson.”  He moved forward to hug her.  
   
“This is my sub, Dr. John Watson.  He’s going to be moving in.”  
   
“Oh, Sherlock.  That’s wonderful.  I always knew you’d find someone.  May I?”  She turned towards John with her arms open.  
   
Sherlock smiled his real smile again.  “Of course.”  
   
John didn’t know exactly what she was asking until Mrs. Hudson hugged him tightly to her.  She rubbed his back in a motherly manner.  “Upstairs, both of you.”  
   
Slightly embarrassed by his cane and limp, John wished that Sherlock had gone up first.  He hated slowing people down with his stupid leg.  
   
Walking into the flat, John noticed the size of the living area first.  “Yes, this could be nice.  Very nice, indeed.  Once it’s straightened up.” 

He turned towards Sherlock only to see him picked up a throw pillow off the floor and start straightening.  “Yes.  I can move things around a bit.” 

John smirked.  “It’s your stuff.  This should be interesting.”  
   
Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands together.  “It’s a lovely place.  There’s an extra bedroom, of course you won’t be needing an extra bedroom but you can do anything John likes with it.”  
   
Sherlock turned towards her.  “I need a lab, Mrs. Hudson.  It’s the perfect size.”  
   
Mrs. Hudson shot a conspiratorial look John’s way.  “I don’t trust you not to blow the place to smithereens, Sherlock.”  
   
A hurt look flashed across Sherlock’s face.  “Mrs. Hudson!”  
   
John watched as she smiled indulgently and smacked Sherlock’s upper arm.  “Don’t you start with me.” 

She turned to John.  “I’ll let the two of you settle in.” She moved towards the doorway.  
   
Sherlock bellowed down the stairway for tea.  John was just settling into a very comfortable, if worn, armchair when Mrs. Hudson yelled back up.  “Not your housekeeper, dear.”  
   
“You made sure her Dom was executed, huh?  She doesn’t seem like a sub.”  
   
Sherlock was watching John closely, an unreadable look on his face.  “She’s not.  A switch.  But people of her generation have trouble admitting things like that.  It just wasn’t accepted the way it is today.  She hides her dominant side behind excessive mothering.”  
   
John nodded.  He had an aunt that was the same way.   
   
Sherlock threw himself back on the sofa.  “Well, we’re home.”  
   
John smiled, but didn’t have much time to soak it all in before Mrs. Hudson was returning with tea and biscuits.   
   
“Just some welcome home nibblies for Dr. Watson.  Don’t get used to it.  I’m not your housekeeper.”  
   
John gratefully accepted the tea proffered by his new not-housekeeper.  He barely had time to get out a thank you before Mrs. Hudson turned.  “What about these suicides, then Sherlock?  They seem right up your street.  Three exactly the same.”  
   
“Not suicides, Mrs. Hudson.  Murders.  And there’s been another one.”  
   
John heard the downstairs door open and close and the stomp of boots on the stairs.  A grey haired and attractive Dom came into the room.   
   
Sherlock spoke first.  “Where?”  
   
“Lauriston Gardens.”  
   
“What’s new about this one?  You wouldn’t have come to me if something wasn’t different.”  
   
“This time there’s a note.  Will you come?”  
   
“Who’s on forensics?”  
   
“Anderson.”  
   
Sherlock grimaced. “Anderson won’t work with me.”  
   
“He won’t be your assistant.”  
   
This time it was an eyeroll.  “I need an assistant.”  
   
“Will you come?”  
   
“Not in a police car.  I’ll be right behind.”  
   
“Thank you.”  
   
The man gave an aborted bow and left the room.   
   
Sherlock moved to the window and watched.  John didn’t know what he was waiting for, but as soon as the slam of the DI’s car door was heard, Sherlock jumped in the air.  “Brilliant.  Four serials suicides and now a note.”  
   
He turned to John.  “It’s Christmas!”  
   
John was just beginning to smile when Sherlock moved towards the doorway.  “John, I have to go.  Make yourself at home, I’ll be back as soon as I can.  Mrs. Hudson, I’ll be late.  I may need some food.”  
   
“Not your housekeeper.” She protested.  
   
“Something cold will do.”  He glided over to John’s chair reached down quickly grabbing him by the chin and roughly pulling him into a hard kiss.  “I promise I’ll be back later.”  
   
John had mixed feelings as Sherlock swept out the door.  The first was anger.  How he wished he could go too.  But his damn leg.  He hated that Sherlock was leaving this early in their new relationship, but he understood about the need to work.  The desire to do a job well.  He had lost that when the bullet passed through him.  Mostly he missed Sherlock.  He had hoped to spend a little more time with him.  To learn more about him.   
   
Before John could move any further into the arms of self-pity, Sherlock moved back into the room.  “You’re a doctor.  In fact, you’re an army doctor.”  
   
“Yes.”  
   
“Any good?”  
   
John’s chin rose a bit.  “Very good.”  
   
“Seen a lot of death and blood.  A bit of trouble, even.”  
   
John squared his shoulders.  “Yes.  A bit.  A lot.  More than my fair share.  Enough for a lifetime.”  
   
“Do you want to see it again?”  
   
John’s heart began to race. “Oh, God, yes.”

++++

Lestrade hadn’t wanted to involve Sherlock Holmes.  But sometimes he just had to.  The man was infuriating.  Donovan said he was a sociopath.  Possibly true.  God knows he didn’t act normal, but when no one else could solve a crime.  Hell, when no one else even saw a crime, Sherlock could solve it.   
   
That’s why he was willing to ask him for help.  It was why he was standing on the second floor of an abandoned building waiting for the man to show up.   
   
He watched as Donovan squared her shoulders at the sight of the consulting detective.  Lestrade figured he should go downstairs and referee whatever free-for-all was about to start.   
   
He had only just stepped into the foyer of the house when he noticed that Sherlock wasn’t alone.  He was trailed by that sub who had been in his flat.  Lestrade had figured it was Mrs. Hudson’s nephew or something.  He knew that Sherlock would put up with a lot from his landlady for which others would be eviscerated.   
   
He couldn’t imagine it extended to taking her nephew, the sub, to a crime scene.  The DI stood back to watch.   
   
Donovan stopped Sherlock at the tape, of course.  He heard Sherlock introduce the sub as Dr. John Watson.  Well, that made sense.  Sherlock always did like to have an audience.  Someone knowledgeable to pass his information to.   
   
Donovan and Anderson were now exchanging rage filled looks with one another.  Well, Lestrade didn’t need to know what they got up to after hours anyway.  Thank you very much, Sherlock.  
   
As it appeared that World War III was not going to break out on the dodgy side of London, Lestrade moved forward and called for Sherlock to join him inside.  
   
He waited until both men entered before turning to Sherlock.   “Who’s this then?” he said, gesturing at the sub.  It was only at that moment that he noticed the man was collared.  Great, just what he needed.  He was sure that any minute some irate Dom was going to show up, punch Sherlock in the face, and leave with his or her sub in tow.  God knows he would never trust Sherlock Holmes to wander around the city with his sub.  
   
Lestrade’s gaze scraped over the cane the sub had in his hand.  If he had collared the man, he would have him home by a nice fire, not knocking around London’s alleys with a crazy person.   
   
Sherlock, finally deigning to notice him, introduced the man.  “This is Dr. John Watson.  He’s with me.”  
   
Lestrade rolled his eyes.  “Jesus, Sherlock.  It’s bad enough I brought you in.  You can’t just drag others along as well.”  
   
“Course I can.  You need me.”  
   
“Yeah, I do.  But I don’t want this man’s Dom to barge in and drag him out of an active crime scene.  I mean, honestly, I’d be morally obliged to allow them to.”  
   
Sherlock gave one of his patented, self-pitying sighs.  “Well, I’m not very likely to drag him out of the crime scene I’ve just brought him to, now am I?”  
   
Lestrade actually gave the consulting detective a double take.  “I’m sorry, what?”  
   
“I said, you don’t have to worry about me dragging him off.  Though, I suppose it is comforting to know you do feel “morally obliged” to allow one access to his own submissive.  With the usual bungling I’ve come to expect from the Met, it’s good to know you still have some basic grasp of the law.”  
   
“You collared a submissive?”  
   
John finally spoke.  “He did.  And you can both stop talking about him like he isn’t here.”  
   
Lestrade felt chided.  He was usually much more chivalrous than this.  He did, however, flick his gaze to Sherlock.  Most Doms would not take well to being chastised in front of another Dom.   
   
Sherlock’s attention was now turned to John.  He was looking at the collar around the man’s neck and the right side of his mouth was quirked up.  Clearly he was trying not to smile . . . and failing.   
   
The consulting detective nodded once before turning back to Lestrade.  “Where’s the body?”  
   
Lestrade motioned towards the second floor.  “I don’t suppose it would do any good to ask you to suit up?”  
   
Sherlock placed a hand low on John’s back, ushering him to the staircase.  “None.”  
   
Once upstairs, Sherlock surprised the DI by asking for John’s opinion first.  The man gave a fairly good, professional breakdown.  It wasn’t up to Sherlock’s standards however, and the man jumped up to list off the completely “obvious” facts that everyone else, including his own sub, had missed.   
   
Lestrade was not surprised when Sherlock’s sub burst forth with praise.  “That’s amazing.”  
   
Lestrade had never thought about it before, but of course Sherlock would lean toward adoring, pet-like submissives.  Hell, any sub willing to be collared by Sherlock probably had a humiliation kink a mile wide.  The man was a walking compendium of verbal abuse.   
   
Which was why he was taken aback when Sherlock turned, stepping into the sub’s personal space, asking him, “Do you know you’re doing that aloud?”  
   
As if he didn’t expect him to.  As if he was surprised.   
   
The sub looked up.  “Sorry.  I’ll stop.”  
   
And then, it happened.  Sherlock Holmes looked vulnerable.  He paused, leaned back, and then said, in an almost coy manner. “It’s fine.”  
   
The next thing you know, Sherlock had skipped off with barely a word to Lestrade, but a sharp kiss and an order to meet him back at the flat for John.   
   
It was that thought for John that had Lestrade hopeful.  Lestrade had seen many things in his years with New Scotland Yard, but the most surprising might be Sherlock Holmes, smitten.  Maybe there was a chance for Sherlock after all.  Maybe if he had to think of someone else, he’d make better choices, become a good man.  Lestrade began to hope so.


	2. Chapter 2

 

It was the third ringing phone which had caught his attention. Now he was sitting across the car from a beautiful Domme who had barely looked up from her iPhone.

After trying to talk to her for a moment, John realized it was futile and sat back to look out the window. He was being chauffeured to a decidedly seedy section of London. He knew he should be frightened, but had never found the knack.

At the urging of “Anthea” or whatever her name was, John exited the car to find a well dressed man leaning on an umbrella. Squaring his shoulders and focusing on the weight of the collar around his neck, John walked confidently to stand a few feet from him.

“Ah,” the man breathed. “Doctor John Watson, recently of 221b Baker Street.”

“Yes.”

“Formerly a hired concubine of the Pleasure Dome Hotel?”

John’s hackles rose. “That’s supposed to be private.”

“Yes.” The man smiled eerily. “Many things are.”

He flipped open a little book. “You have moved into 221b” his emphasis on the “B” indicated distaste, “with a former client, one Sherlock Holmes.”

John unconsciously moved into parade rest. “I moved in with my Dom.”

The man smiled again. “Quite.”

John glanced off to his side. “What do you want?”

“I simply wanted to congratulate you. You only reconnected with Sherlock this morning, and here you are wearing his collar. Should we be expecting a Vinculum Ceremony soon?”

“Can I leave?”

“I have a proposition for you. Nothing you’d be uncomfortable with. I would simply like information. Information about Sherlock, his comings and goings, if you will.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“I haven’t mentioned a sum. It would be substantial.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Really? A man who, until very recently, was working as a prostitute? I would be far less demanding than your other clients.”

“Why do you care about Sherlock?”

“Oh, I worry about him constantly.”

“Well, you can stop. That’s my job now.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

John looked at him unflinchingly. “Yes.”

“Well. Then I suppose you should be on your way.”

John reentered the car to find Anthea waiting for him. He checked his phone to see a message from Sherlock asking where he was. Then another demanding he come home immediately. Apparently, “it could be dangerous.”

John felt an unfamiliar shiver run up his spine as he read the words.

Anthea looked up from her iPhone. “Where would you like us to drop you?”

“221b Baker Street. But I need to stop somewhere first.”

Sherlock jumped from his chair the second John entered the flat. “Where have you been? I told you to meet me here.”

“Well, I was kidnapped by a friend of yours.”

That drew Sherlock up short. “. . . . by who?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t exactly give a name. He was just some posh bloke with an umbrella.”

“Ah. I take it he offered you money to spy on me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you take it?”

John just looked at him like he was an idiot, making Sherlock smile. “You should have said yes. We could have split the money. Honestly John, think it through next time.”

They stared at one another before breaking into matching smiles. John broke first. “Who was he.”

“The most dangerous man you’ll ever meet. And not my problem right now. I need you to text someone.”

Five minutes later John looked up in shock. “Did a serial killer just text me back?”

Sherlock ignored the question. “Let’s go eat.”

John shook his head and followed with only a cursory glance at the tacky pink suitcase.

++++++

John watched as Angelo moved to fetch their drinks. “Does everyone owe you a favor?”

Sherlock smirked. “Not yet.”

John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock’s decision to not eat, but didn’t say anything. He kept waiting for Sherlock to bring up his disobedience—the fact that he did not go straight back to the flat.

They hadn’t discussed punishments yet. They hadn’t discussed anything really. The longer Sherlock went on, staring at the window behind John’s head, the more upset he became.

John’s hand fluttered up to touch his collar. It was so very reassuring. What if Sherlock was rethinking his decision? It had stung a little when Mary had rescinded his collar, but he couldn’t say that he was surprised. He knew as well as she did that the relationship was never going to work. It had almost been a relief.

He wouldn’t be relieved if Sherlock rescinded this collar; he’d be devastated. Why did he get in that car? He didn’t have to; he wanted to. He wanted to know who was watching him, who had that kind of power and resources.

John pulled in a deep breath. Sherlock looked at him sharply.

“You’re upset.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, I’m fine. Really.”

Sherlock’s eyes unfocused for a moment. John had only been with him a short time, but he already recognized it as his “deduction face.”

“You are not fine. You look like you are about to hyperventilate. Tell me now.” Sherlock had pulled out his Dom voice for the last bit. John couldn’t help himself.

“Are you going to punish me?”

Sherlock looked confused. “For what?”

“I didn’t meet you back at the flat. You had to text me. Three times.”

“Well, I’ll be lenient as you were kidnapped. I mean, don’t let it become a habit, but I think we can overlook it this once.”

Sherlock was going for light, but John was not in the mood for that.

“Sherlock, I’m a horrible sub. But I’m going to try so hard for you. But I need. . . I need you to tell me what you expect. I need to know your ground rules.”

Sherlock nodded silently. He very desperately wanted to tell John how dull that sounded, but he could tell the older man was genuinely upset. He was surprised to find it was making him upset.

“Well, first off, never call yourself a “horrible sub” ever again. In fact, I would prefer if you didn’t insult or degrade yourself in any way. It’s stupid for a sub as lovely as you to doubt his own worth.”

John smiled ruefully. “Sherlock, I can honestly say that you are the love of my life. I already know that. But we have been together for one day. You don’t know what kind of sub I am.”

Sherlock moved to the other side of the table, sitting on the booth very near John. Leaning forward into John’s personal space, he grabbed John around the throat and squeezed, pulling John’s face up to his own.

“Do you remember the night we met?” John’s eyes dilated and his entire body went boneless. “When I tied you to the bed and examined you?”

John’s breathing was ragged, but he managed nod, despite Sherlock’s grip. “I know you, John. Intimately. Better than you know yourself. Do not doubt me. Do not doubt this relationship. It is permanent.”

Letting John go, Sherlock took a sip of water. “My first rule, other than the aforementioned, no cumming without permission, is do not lie to me. When I asked you what was wrong, you said nothing. If I ask a direct question, you will answer me honestly. If you are upset, you will tell me.”

John nodded.

“I don’t know what kind of tops you’ve dealt with before, but I am not like them. I find absolute obedience boring. If I ordered you to stay in the flat, and it caught on fire, would you stay?”

“No.”

“How’s this?” Sherlock asked. “How about we make this a rule? Don’t be an idiot. You had to get in that car. Your sense of adventure and love of danger dictated it. I would never want to squash those things.”

John licked his lips. “But you will have to punish me one day. It’s inevitable.”

Sherlock shrugged. “I’m sure I will. And I look forward to it. But it won’t be because you used your best judgment. It will never be for that. I know all of who you are John.” He took his sub’s hand and pressed it against his straining erection. “And I want it.”

Sherlock let go of John’s hand, but John only curved his fingers around the shaft. “Please, let me take care of this. Please, sir.”

Sherlock was tempted. That was new. He was never tempted on a case. But after their discussion, John was dangerously close to subspace, eyes dilated, breathing heavy. Sherlock wanted very much to tie his hands behind his back, stuff his cock down his throat until John couldn’t breathe and then have the other man rub himself to orgasm against Sherlock’s leg.

Unfortunately, Sherlock’s attention was grabbed by a taxi that had pulled up in front of the building across the street.

Sherlock took a deep breath and pressed his mouth against John’s ear. “I’ll take care of you when we get home. But right now, we have to work.”

++++++++

Sherlock and John collapsed against the hallway wall of 221 Baker St laughing.

Their eyes met, and John knew immediately what he wanted to do. He pushed Sherlock flat against the wall and began to nuzzle his neck.

  "Please, sir, let me."  

With Sherlock's nod John began to unbuckle the taller man's belt as he licked along the exposed skin at his collarbone.   John quickly pushed Sherlock's trousers and pants to his thighs and then fell to his knees.  

Finally able to pay homage to his Dom's cock, John wanted to take it slow. He licked from the base of the shaft to the tip of the head. Taking in the taste of the other man. When he opened his mouth and throat and took all of Sherlock inside him, he relaxed his gag reflex and took in the scent of his Dom, home, where he belonged.

  He pulled almost completely off Sherlock’s cock and was immediately on it again, finding a rhythm that suited both of them.

Reaching up and grabbing his Dom's balls, he could feel as they begun to rise up and knew his top was close.   Sherlock reached down and pulled John off of his cock just as he released, his ejaculate landing across his sub's cheeks and lips.

John looked up at him, his pupils gone wide with desire.  

"I don't know if I have ever seen anything so perfect as my wanton sub." He said as he watched John lick him clean and tuck him back into his clothing.

There was a knock at the door.  Sherlock handed him a handkerchief from his pocket.  "You might want to clean up before you open the door."

John knew he must look a mess, his hair tousled, color high in his cheeks, pupils blown and floating happily in the realm of subspace, but he opened the door anyway.

Angelo stood outside holding his cane. “Sherlock said you forgot this.”

John looked at the object in shock. “Yes. Thank you.”

Angelo smiled before leaving.

John looked down at his leg and then over to Sherlock, who was leaning against the wall with a smug expression.

“You can throw it in the closet upstairs with all the other things you no longer need.”

John moved over to Sherlock and raised up to kiss him. Sherlock allowed him to control the kiss until John was ready to speak. “Thank you Sherlock.”

The Dom was about to speak when Mrs. Hudson came scurrying down the stairs. “Oh Sherlock. What have you done? The police are upstairs.”

John and Sherlock exchanged a look and clambered up to their flat.

+++++

“It’s a drugs bust!”

John scoffed. “A drugs bust? Him? That’s preposterous.”

Sherlock immediately moved into John’s space, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Stop talking.”

John’s mouth snapped shut automatically. He turned to Sherlock in shock. “You?”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

John just nodded.

Anderson was watching the entire thing with avid interest. “What? You haven’t told your sub? Of course you haven’t.” Then to John: “Get out while you can.”

Sherlock and John snapped at him in unison. “Shut up.”

Lestrade rolled his eyes, but held up the pink case. “Withholding evidence, Sherlock? We’ve talked about this.”

“I wasn’t withholding it. I was just holding onto it, because you are all idiots.”

Lestrade nodded thoughtfully. “Well, be that as it may, I’m taking it now.”

Sherlock nodded. “Did you ever find out who Rachel is?”

++++++

Sherlock stared down the barrel of a very unconvincing gun. “I’ll enjoy the court case.”

“Oh, no Mr. Holmes. You can’t leave now. You have to play the game.”

Sherlock scoffed. “I see little point.”

Hope smiled. “Sherlock Holmes, the science of deduction. You are so much smarter than the rest of the world. But you have to prove it constantly.” He paused, pushing a vial towards the detective. “So prove it. Play the game.”

Sherlock contemplated the man in front of him. “You’re a sub. Collared for over 30 years, but it was recently rescinded. You have two children; I saw their picture in your cab. But it’s old. They don’t live with you. The courts usually give custody to the primary caregiver, usually the sub, but not this time. Why? For the same reason your Domme rescinded the collar. You have become unstable.”

Sherlock paused for a second. “But why so suddenly?” He looked the cabbie over. “Terminal is it? Cancer?”

Hope raised an eyebrow. “Aneurysm.”

Sherlock tipped his head to the side for a moment. “There’s always something.”

Hope nodded. “No one is perfect. You’ve also managed to miss the biggest piece of the puzzle.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I have a sponsor. And he is very interested in you.”

“Who?” Sherlock demanded in his very best Dom voice.

Hope just laughed. “That would be telling. But here, take a vial. Are you actually smarter than me. You’ll never know otherwise. Is it a bluff? A double bluff? Surely, you can figure it out Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock raised his vial to the light. Setting it down he grabbed the one in front of Hope and unscrewed the top. Taking out one pill he moved it to his lips. Before he could swallow it, Hope was bleeding out on the floor.

Sherlock rushed to the window, but could see nothing. He turned back to Hope, determined to find the name of his sponsor.

++++++

Sherlock pulled the orange blanket more securely around his shoulders. “Ignore me. I’m in shock.” He could barely think for his excitement. If he hadn’t already been sure that John was the world’s most perfect sub, he was now.

John had found him. The stupid Yard would have never found him. And then he shot Jefferson Hope. Most subs would have curled up at home to wait for direction. But not John. Never John.

Sherlock tried to compose himself as he walked over. “That was an excellent shot.”

John nodded. “Yes. It would have to be.” Oh, Sherlock reveled in the innocent look on his face. The open expression. Christ. He wanted to take him against the ambulance. But it wouldn’t do. No need to draw attention to themselves.

“We’ll need to get rid of the gun. I don’ suppose you would go to jail, but let’s avoid the court case.”

John furrowed his brow.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you another gun. But if you have to do this again. We won’t want forensics matching the bullets.”

John nodded slowly. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. I even let the EMTs check me out. I only had the blanket because Lestrade’s people wanted to take photos.”

Shaking his head, John looked suddenly vulnerable. “Your sub did just kill a man. Most Doms would be upset. Concerned that he was unstable. Subs aren’t supposed to be capable of violence like that.”

Sherlock was taken aback for a moment. “An army sub certainly is. Besides, he wasn’t a very nice man.”

John laughed, relieved. “No. And a bloody awful cabbie.”

Both men broke down in giggles. John tried desperately to pull himself together. “Stop. We can’t giggle at a crime scene.”

Sherlock only grabbed John’s arm tightly and pulled him towards the road. “Are you hungry? I’m famished. How’s Chinese sound?”

John took two steps forward before stopping and staring off to his right. “Sherlock. That’s the man who kidnapped me.”

Sherlock looked disgusted. “I know exactly who that is.”   
John followed as Sherlock stalked up to the posh man and his assistant. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to check in. I thought we could discuss your and John’s Vinculum.

John looked back and forth between the two. This was the second time the man had brought up a Vinculum. No one had those anymore. Well, the royals, of course. You had to do something for Daily Mail. And the landed gentry. Posh people.

“We are not having a stupid ceremony, Mycroft. Just leave us alone.” Sherlock hissed.

The man, Mycroft apparently, leaned more heavily on his umbrella. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sherlock. You know how it will upset Mummy.”

“I upset Mummy?!”

Sherlock looked as if he were about to explode.

John jumped in. “Wait, wait. Who’s Mummy?”

Sherlock finally looked towards John. “Our mother. She is a bit old-fashioned.”

“Wait. This is your brother?”

Sherlock nodded. “And when you said you were worried about Sherlock, you actually meant you were worried?”

Mycroft sniffed and nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

John licked his lips. “Okay.”

Sherlock sighed heavily. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry, John?”

John nodded, and Sherlock dragged him away from Mycroft, while babbling about Chinese restaurants and door handles.

++++++

Baker street was dark as Sherlock unlocked the door. Mrs Hudson must have already been down with her nightly dosage of herbal soothers.  

John was barely through the door before Sherlock was on him. The kiss was deep and passionate before he pulled away.  

"Bedroom now, John. Naked and kneeling at the foot of the bed."  

Sherlock gave him a few minutes head start as he checked a couple of experiments.   When he entered the bedroom, John was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The light from the street below came through the window and made the sub's skin almost glisten. Sherlock knew immediately which toy he wanted to play with tonight.  

"John, you really are an extraordinary person."  

After a few moments standing there staring at his sub he finally continued.

  "Get up on the bed. On all fours facing the headboard."

  Sherlock positioned his legs a little further apart and then reached over and removed a blindfold from the box next to the bed. John barely got a look in the box before the lid was closed.

  "Now, John, you will know all the contents of the toy chest soon enough. But let's let tonight be a surprise." He said securing the blindfold in place.   John tried to listen for his Dom. To know where he was at all time. But other than the occasional sound of a drawer closing or the rustle of fabric when clothes were removed, Sherlock was as quiet as night.

  He heard the sound of a cap closing just before he felt a slick finger begin to stretch him open. Without his sight, he began to fall into subspace by the time the second finger worked its way inside him. John moaned when the third finger joined the other two.   Sherlock twisted and scissored his digits before adding more lube and a fourth finger. He watched as beads of sweat began to pool on his sub's skin.

Finally, deciding that John was prepared he went back to the toy chest for the [anal hook](http://www.sexx-shop.com/prostate-massagers/the-anal-hook.html).   John's whimper at the loss of contact was quickly replaced by as gasp when he felt a hard metal ball being pushed into his anus.  

Sherlock ran his fingers up and down John's spine as he pushed the hook in as far as it would go.   The smaller man trembled as fingers were replaced with licks and kisses. Just as he was starting to relax he felt rope pulled snug but not constricting around his throat and attached to the end of the hook.

  "John, you are to hold this position. You do not move unless I tell you to and while I plan to let you come tonight, permission will only be granted after I do. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Very good."  

Sherlock reached forward and began to stroke John from partial to complete hardness. While doing that he reached into the toy chest and pulled out his final item for the evening, a long silver vibrator.   He applied a little more lube to John's hole and then began to work in the vibrator next to the anal hook, stretching him even further than his fingers had earlier.

Sherlock turned the vibrator to its lowest setting and began to fuck his sub with it. He angled to that he hit John's prostate with almost every gentle push.

  The sounds that escaped John's mouth were almost enough to push Sherlock over the edge on their own, so he cast the vibrator aside and thrust his slicked up penis inside his lover.   Sherlock struggled to slow his breathing and control the tightness that was building in his abdomen. He grabbed the junction where the hook and the rope connected and used that as an anchor to thrust into his sub hard repeatedly.  

John felt as if he would burst with fullness. The ball of the hook had already begun to rub on his prostate as Sherlock was fitting the rope around his throat. But it wasn't until the added sensation of Sherlock's cock inside him and the occasional struggle to breathe with every pull on the hook that John could barely hold back his cries of pleasure.

  John was deep within his own subspace. He had given up making coherent words or thoughts. He had also given up on the need to come. His body belonged to his Dom to use as he sees fit. His only pleasure would be at Sherlock’s hand.

  The fight to keep from coming was over. Sherlock released into his sub with a possessive growl.  

When he recovered enough to move again he reached for John and began to stroke him in earnest.  

"Come, John."  

John barely registered the command before he was coming on the sheets below him, body trembling.  

Sherlock untied the rope from the hook and massaged the skin around his throat.

  "John, take a deep breath for me and blow it all out."  

When John was exhaling, Sherlock pulled the hook from his body and lowered him onto his stomach on the bed.   He then went to get a warm cloth to clean them both up. He rolled John onto his side and cleaned the bed underneath him, tossed the cloth into the hamper, climbed into the bed behind his sub and wrapped his arm around him.  

John leaned back into his Dom and pulled Sherlock’s arm tighter around himself, enjoying the safe and connected feeling as he continued to fly in his subspace.

 


End file.
